Here I Go on the road again

the call of the road


I love to drive. I really love to drive. I really totally love to drive. I really totally absolutely love to drive. Humans invented words to be able to communicate . While it is true that our mastery of larynx has enabled us to become masters of the world and deluded us into creating competitions to find the most beautiful thing that breathes in the universe, no matter how many daggers I inflict on the works of Wren and Martin and the guardians of English dictionary , I cannot honestly describe the joy that driving gives to me. Words can indeed be funny, only way to describe your love for anything is to write that you cannot describe them in words.

So, I love to drive. I love to drive fast. In India, driving fast is not something that any cardiologist will recommend to the fainthearted. Driving on the roads of India, it sometimes makes me wonder where did Stan Lee get the inspiration for his characters . Maybe it was good that he did not live in India or else his description of the physical self of his characters would be so much realistic. Every day in India you have people take to the road that they are the one and only spider-man and superman. Helmets are something meant for people whose brain skulls are made of fragile calcium composite. Driving on the wrong side is only way to drive specially if most of the lesser mortals who are driving at over 100 km per hour stand to disintegrate after a head on collision with the superman. The best part of it all is that the biggest superpower of Indian motorists is the high beam light that shields them from harms way by blinding the oncoming traffic driving on the right side of the road.

So, I have a self-destructive love. And there hangs the tale or whatever Lord Archer might have programmed my brain to mutter. If I am to analyse every thing I do in my life, my driving stands out as an anomaly. I was a lethargic when it came to physical activity , while I won accolades galore in academics and extra-academics, I have a resounding empty cupboard for sports. I used to hate games period and would actually study during the same in school. Yet, now I am one of the most regular guys in the gym challenging myself everyday to run an extra kilometer so much so that most of the fit members of the gym publicly declare me as an object of envy. Post diabetics, I have almost killed the foodie in me, I used to live to eat and I used to eat. For years, I could eat the most in my locality and now I am scared of having an extra serving of wheat bread. When I see oil floating around, it becomes difficult for me to chew and digest.

But we all are slaves to our own brain who will always find a way to justify all we do. While it is tempting to say that I am in control of my car, it is not really the right answer. I have had times when I lost control of my bike or car for a few fleeting seconds,seconds where only extraordinary symphony of circumstances saved my life. So I take refuge in my knowledge of biology.

When you are in fear, your brain produces adrenaline. A rush of adrenaline stimulates the body and causes a sudden release of glucose as well as an increase in blood pressure, respiration, and heart rate. It makes you more aware of your situation and your body is physical more ready to react.Different people have different brains. Some brains needs a lot of excitement to pump out adrenaline (Formula 1-drivers, sky-divers, base-jumpers,), others, however, need just a little; stealing a candy bar, going into an examination.
After a while the adrenaline is no longer active in your body and you have indeed conquered your own fear. That makes some people feel “more alive”.
Some brains produce  dopa-mine, a kind of reward-drug: you get a good feeling about yourself. It’s all about these chemicals. Because of this reward-drug you may want to do it again, and when, for instance,  becomes too familiar, you need to go off-piste to ensure the production of adrenaline and dopa-mine.

Fully satisfied with my explanation, I can only mummer the lyrics of Bob Sager’s song “Turn the page”- especially the part “on the the road again“- juxtaposed with the background music of Bon Jovi’s “Blaze of glory”, and dream myself pressing my accelerator hard enough so that there is no air bubble between the shoe of the accelerator and the chassis of my car.


Antonyms and Synonyms (Oh fuck !! and Oh sex!!)

All the dictionaries of the world unite in proclaiming  antonym as a word opposite in meaning while synonym is a word that has the same meaning. I can’t speak for all languages but the ones claiming to be an authority in English, there is little ambiguity in the matter. But over the course of our lives, we also use words outside the recommended vocabulary of the parliament. The ignorant and not so ignorant classify these words as slang. This classification is not entirely wrong but what is not wrong need not be right. I have a self-proclaimed pseudo-intellectual who need his dose of intellectual masturbation.I call this facet of our vocabulary as swear words.

Fuck and sex. No matter in which language you speak, the verbal interpretation of sexual intercourse lends its vocal syllables to swear words. Although, I do not need any certificate from any censor board, and I am  a fan of the writers of GodFellas, I guess it will serve my post no purpose if I elaborate on my exhaustible knowledge of derivatives of fuck in different human languages. In short fuck and sex in human vocabulary  is ubiquitous. I hope I have put my point across.

Now comes the part of the post wherein I dwell on the conflicting emotions that drove me to write this post. Although sex and Fornification under consent of king  essentially mean the same thing to a laymen, when he swear he means entirely different context in both the use cases. I used the term laymen for the overwhelmingly large percentage of my rationalist and hyper intelligent friends can go to any lengths to research all the garbage under the sun and create a ten thousand word long essay on the difference in meaning of fuck and sex. Having shut down the critics with the most infallible argument -“Please suppress your rationality” , it’s now time to come back to the topic. I can’t help wondering how many of our conversations would read like if we had interchanged the words. To drive the point home, I shall first give a brief background of the situation.

So here are a few of imaginary conversations

  • One of your friends of opposite sex (I know they are rare if you are a male iitian), looks full of energy for a competition.I hope you get the idea and fill the dots and blanks. You cheer her up saying you look all sexed up for the occasion. I am sure you will still be friends after that. Imagine trying to encourage saying you look fucked up for the occasion.
  • Your friends girlfriend is looking real hot and you are with your girlfriend. (yeah yeah Utopia, what the hell!! lemme create a world I please in my blog ), You compliment her saying that she looks sexy. I guess she would be happy.I think saying that she looks like fuck wont qualify as a complement besides the other side effects that might occur.
  • To end it all from where it all started, I was thinking of a few mods to my bike and exclaiming in my mind that it will look like sex, if every some one uses fuck in relation to my bike I would really start pitying the intelligence of the person.

I guess that is enough in this interesting observation which I find quite humorous.

Hellride for heaven part:1

Venue: Ivy Comptech,Hyderabad

For those of who are in touch me shall know of my adventure on asphalt over the last weekend.For the less fortunate mortals, I embarked on a trip to Mumbai – nothing abnormal as yet – but I chose to ride my way to Mumbai on a bike from Hyderabad a distance of over 700 kms made over 800 by one enjoyable wrong turn.
I am a huge proponent of apt use of “a”s and “the”s in blogs. But somehow this escape from normal life merits an abnormal piece. A piece that celebrates the statistical relevance of Dhonis over the poetry of Laxman.
For sake of my own satisfaction, I shall resort to one word section headers to tie the threads together.


me: “Himank is friday ko good friday hai na?”

himank (co conspirator):”haan”

me to shobhit(flatmate):  “Oye shobhit, weekend ko kya kar raaha hai?”

shobhit : “mere office ko good friday ka chutti nehi hai, saturday bhi khula hai isi hafte ghar se aaya huun cant take leave again”

me to aniket : “Weekend ko kya kar raha hai?”

aniket: “kuch nehi. Tu kya kar raaha hai. Yahaan aa jaa.”

me:”aaya to jaa sakta hai. will confirm in 30 mins.”

I enter my office wing, go to himank’s place

me: “Oye, weekend ko mumbai chalega”

himank:”chal, lets book the tickets!!”

me:”Tickets kyon, lets go by bike”.

Himank (thinking: finally i got a person who is as pshycho as me!! Yo Baby!!): “yes! haan”

me to aniket: “oye main friday mumbai pahuch raaha huun . coming on bike. Blue frog chalenge bandi pe fight marunga. Is baar hellu nehi hounga. Atleast baat karke aaunga:D”

aniket :”Pagla gaya kya. pagloko bandi nehi milti hai. tu aisa kar flight pakar ke aa fir chalte hai tab milegi”

me:”Sale, khud mere ehsano ke wajeh se bandi mili. chup reh!! I am coming by bike!! mile gi to milegi nehi to nehi. will stop at pune for a few hours rest :D”

himank: “Raat ko das bajeh types nikalte hai, I might stop at Pune ”


The entire flow of events took place over a duration of less than an hour a day before the ride. IF I write the entire experience in one blog, it will be too clumsy!! So will continue this series

Traffic Rules are meant to be broken

me n my bulletAny well thought of title of an act of human creativity is probably the most significant combination of words both in terms of font size and information density. The recent deluge of newsprint on traffic incidents might colour the perspective of any unsuspecting reader of this blog. As an honest a sincere human being,I shall crush herein any feeling that this post is moral lecture on the need for traffic rules. This post is a stripped down recollections of my misadventures on my new bike the bullet classic. Misadventures I shall live to rejoice.

Its been eight months since I have started calling Hyderabad my home. Coming from the mouth of a person who spent the last seven years of his life in hostel, home usually refers to the geographical coordinates wherein we take shelter during our holidays. But the end (or pause only time knows) of my student days means that this definition of home needs to be restored to the original dictionary meaning of the word.The reason as to why I am saying all this seemingly unrelated nonsensical things is to drive home my point that I know I live in the city which I call home not just during my holidays.

Being a novice in riding bikes and having a burning desire to master the art of riding catalyzed by availability of one of your friends bike usually results in the obvious. Over the last three or four months, I found my mind and body struggling with a bike in around the roads of Hyderabad. Unfortunately two of the best roads in Hyderabad outer ring road and PVNR are closed to two wheelers.So, I had never touched them. One thing led to other and experience taught me that are only two rules that apply on Hyderabad roads – physics and economics :D.

Having finally graduated to a intermediate biker, I decided it was time to buy my own. So, it was time to select my beast, after a lot of deliberations it was decided that thunderbird it shall be but a test drive of classic and a case of blinded by pure awesomeness meant that it shall be bullet classic. My first date was set as 23rd December but fate had a mind of its own. Some political agitations, tax saving investments, trip to Assam meant that I could lay my hands on my beast on 30th January.

My first day on this bike saw me falling for one of Adams apple in the garden of Eden Putting all my apprehensions in the burner and aspirations on fire, I zoomed ahead in front of the by-standing white-shirt, khaki trousers, white helmet clad people. A few hundred metres  later I found myself that I was not the only person exhibiting one of the most frequent examples of control system engineering, several unstable creations of human engineering were moving ahead. These repeated sightings annihilated whatever remained of the ashes of my apprehensions. It is said that pride is a vice to be abandoned and humility is a virtue to be embraced. The sight of all other that was moving on around me made me abandon my lessons on morals accumulated over the years. I could help looking down at all that was sharing the road I was traveling while the other moving objects had their heart and soul in the pages of boring science mine had the mind in science and heart in the labyrinth of the Vincis and MichealAngelos. As for the ride or should I say the flight, it was great but forbidden fruit was a touch over rated. The flight of my senses was cruelly punctuated by the section of roundabouts and work in progress.But it did feel great and letting the bike take control.With a bullet classic, you need not tell it where to go, it understands your heart.

Next day, my indulgences in global warming saw me take to the Hyderabad-Bangalore Highway. Ooo! La La OMG !OMG!. Miles and miles of riding paradise. The music of my bullet piercing the night air that enveloped all my senses. The the flight of photons ,forever perplexed by the need to satisfy Einstein and Maxwell, on the asphalt road and my dashboard was a sight to behold. Funnily though the most exhilarating feeling was one of the most trivial parts of the beat.The efforts the springs on my seat that insulated me from all variations in altitude of the road that lay beneath my beast. All good things come to a pause with a promise to visit some time later. Before long,it was time for me to turn back and head to the place I sleep and have my breakfast.

In this leg of my journey, I thought of killing the miles that lay between the airport and my home through the not so glamorous neighbour of PVNR. But sometimes fate smiles on you.There was nobody to block my illegal entry into PVNR. No sooner had I verified it,it was time to do a  u turn and head for the asphalt pastures that lay ahead.Some man made curves can surely compete with carnal curves for the affection of man. The guilt soaked ride was an experience in itself but the punctuations inflicted by four speed-breakers in the eleven km stretch of elevated expressway did leave a bitter after-taste. 😀 . I guess that is what happens after traveling  60 kms without a bump on the Bangalore-Hyderabad nh-7.

Conclusion: Bullet classic rocks and nh 7 is the place where I enjoyed most